


Introducing The New Dog

by CultOfAdoration



Series: If He Had A Symbol, It Would Be Lead [1]
Category: Ghost (Swedish Band)
Genre: Boot Worship, Gross, Hand Jobs, M/M, Power Imbalance, a ghoul cleans some shoes with his tongue okay, boy oh boy, dubcon due to said power imbalance (just in case), light humiliation, semi-public, sorry dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15064529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultOfAdoration/pseuds/CultOfAdoration
Summary: If Papa Emeritus II were any other man, he would find it endearing. Maybe even cute.Unfortunately for the ghoul, he isn't any other man.





	Introducing The New Dog

**Author's Note:**

> I busted this out in around an hour or so, please let me know if you find any weird mistakes.
> 
> For context, this fic (+ all related fics) assumes that ghouls are humans turned into demonic creatures via ritual magic instead of humans in masks.

The nameless ghoul stands staring at himself reflected in the great window facing out towards the courtyard. He’s completely oblivious to the sounds of the kitchen around him as he steps closer, fingers gently tracing the outline of the small horns growing in at his hairline, the slight point to his ears, the sharp, new outline of his jaw. It had been nearly four months already and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to get used to his new appearance. His body after the commencement ritual was now constantly changing at a painfully slow pace. It hasn’t been as bad as he thought it would be. Lately he’s just been irritable and itchy all over from the soft, new scales growing in in patches over his body. His fragile, flat teeth had already fallen out one by one and were soon replaced with a mouthful of needle-sharp fangs. He still wakes up with the bitter taste of blood on his tongue. 

They told him it could take several years before he was fully transformed. He’s caught glimpses of fully grown ghouls inside the cathedral and at services, standing in packs at the front, far away from any new blood. It would be worth it. 

He nearly jumps as he’s shaken, literally, out of his musings by a sister of sin gripping his arm. 

“Have you been listening to me at all, ghoul?” She glares up at him, holding a large coffee mug in one hand. “You have a job to do, you know. I hope you’re not trying to get away with being lazy.” She tries to smooth away any wrinkles in the ghoul’s outfit and tsks at him before pointing through the window at a covered terrace in the far corner of the courtyard. “I need you to take this to Papa for me so I can finish up in here, understand?” 

He nods slowly, not yet fully out of his daydream and takes the mug from her hands. “Oh. Of course, sister,” he says quietly. She offers him a tight lipped sort-of smile, like she’s trying not to get frustrated. “Make sure to come back as soon as you’re done, you still haven’t even started cleaning.” The ghoul nods and makes his way out of the kitchen and toward the large double doors leading outside. 

It wasn’t so bad being a ghoul. He had hoped that he’d get to work a little closer to Papa Emeritus but it made sense that they’d want all the new ones to work their way up to serving the pope directly. At least being an errand boy for the church didn’t suck as badly as it could have. Free food and clothing, nice bed, cool new body. He even got to keep his cat when he moved in. 

The ghoul finds Papa Emeritus II right where the sister said he would be, on a small patio area hidden away by a few trees and shrubs, and quickens his step a bit, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer. He stands beside where Papa is sitting, magazine in hand, and he bows. Papa nods his head toward the small glass coffee table beside his chair and the ghoul moves to place the mug down, but stumbles over Papa Emeritus’ feet, spilling the coffee in the process. Papa hisses and recoils back to avoid being splashed and looks down to the ghoul. “Are you kidding me?” He tosses the magazine down onto the table and glares over his sunglasses at the ghoul, who’s now sitting on his knees in front of him. 

The ghoul’s eyes widen as he looks up at him. _This is it,_ he thinks. _This is how I’ll die. For real, this time_. Instead of getting up and running away in terror the way his mind is practically screaming at him to do, he lowers his head and bows again. “I’m sorry, Papa, I’ll clean it up and get you another one right away,” his words come out in a rush, voice high with embarrassment. “I’ll be more careful. Please forgive me, Papa.” He keeps his head down, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. For what, he’s unsure of. All he knows is that he’s probably fucked. 

The ghoul can practically hear Papa grinding his teeth and he says, finally, with newfound patience, “Sit up, sit up. Never mind the _floor_ , ghoul. Look at this.”  
The ghoul tilts his head up just enough to see that Papa is actually talking about the massive scuff mark that was now running up the side of his shoe.  
The ghoul’s heart sinks and he looks away, unable to meet Papa’s eye. “I’m really, really sorry! Um, are they— wait, I can clean that, too! I swear.” 

Papa Emeritus rolls his eyes and puts his elbow up onto the table, resting his head against his hand. “Of course you’ll clean it.” The ghoul fidgets for a second and looks toward the kitchen window. Just water should work, right? He could try to buff out the mark with a hand towel or something from the kitchen. He moves to stand and Papa kicks his thigh gently. Or rather, not as hard as he could have. “Hey!” Confused, the ghoul looks up at him, head tilted. “Umm. I wasn’t just going to leave. I’m going to go get—” The ghoul is cut off mid sentence by Papa sighing heavily through his nose. He could almost sense the fact that he was rolling his eyes from behind his sunglasses. “I know. But I told you to clean them, not run off and make me wait around for another twenty goddamned minutes like you did with my coffee!” The ghoul flinches at Papa’s sudden shouting. Shit, in a bad mood, he was terrifying even without the face paint. It wasn’t even really his fault that the coffee was late. _Fuck you, Sister Deanna_ , the ghoul thinks to himself. This is probably why why she didn’t want to come out here in the first place. 

The ghoul stares hard at the scuff mark. He thinks back to when he was taught to shine his own leather shoes when he first received his new clothing. Just wiping it off with his hands wouldn’t be enough, so… “Um. Permission to spit on your shoes, Papa?” The ghoul says what he knows to be the incorrect question in a tiny wavering voice. He isn’t surprised when he hears Papa scoff above him. “Absolutely not!” The ghoul shrinks away a little and continues to consider his options, but it’s getting hard to think straight when he can feel the Second’s gaze burning holes in his skin. 

Not a bad looking ghoul, Papa muses. His skin is still mottled instead of the smooth grey it would soon become. His hair is a bit shorter than what the dress code calls for and it isn’t even combed properly. He’s also got big downturned eyes and a sharp, angular nose. No, not a bad looking ghoul at all. That could be kind of fun.

“You’re smarter than that, ghoul. I know you can figure something out,” Papa says, tapping his foot impatiently. Truthfully, the ghoul had already had a sneaking suspicion as to what he was getting at even without Papa’s teasing words. He was just having a hard time willing himself to do it. What if he was wrong? What if Papa was just toying with him to see how much more foolish he could make himself look. The ghoul takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before very gingerly leaning back down until he’s level with Papa’s shoe. His hands and arms are shaking. Taking a quick look at Papa, who gives him an almost imperceptible nod to continue, he licks a quick stripe up the side of his shoe. Grimacing at the faint taste of leather polish and the feeling of his sharp teeth poking against the underside of his tongue, he swallows and does it again. And again. And again. 

He’s hot all over and beginning to sweat, and he isn’t sure if it’s from the embarrassment or something else entirely. Making sure that the leather of the shoe is sufficiently clean with a few more swipes of his tongue, he sits up on his knees, keeping his hands where they were on the floor. Papa is still eyeing him critically, but looks away to straighten out his leg and examine his handiwork. It’s silent save for a few insect chirps and the rustling of plants in the breeze as Papa moves his shoe, checking the sides and seeing the way the damp leather catches the light. “Very good,” he says, returning his leg to its previous position. The ghoul flashes a quick smile and perks up a bit at the small bit of praise. Before the ghoul can regain his composure enough to stand and walk back inside, Papa looks him in the eye over his sunglasses and says, “Now do the other one.” 

Nearly losing his composure and barking out a laugh, Papa fights to keep a completely straight face. The look of dismay that he gave him was too good. He didn’t think the ghoul’s eyes could get any wider. “Excuse me?” the ghoul squeaks. The other one hadn’t been dirtied at all! In fact, both of Papa’s shoes were impeccably clean before he came along. _Stupid,_ the ghoul thought. _Wasn’t this a punishment? Of course he wouldn’t let you off the hook doing just one. That’s too easy._ Taking a deep breath and then exhaling shakily, the ghoul says, “Of course, Papa.” He bends back down and maintains eye contact with Papa Emeritus as best as he can from the awkward angle, tilting his head to the side as he drags his tongue across the leather. His skin heats up even further when Papa hums in approval. He has to stifle a disappointed noise when Papa turns his attention away from him in favor of the previously forgotten magazine. Oh, of _course_ he would be on the cover. As long as he’s away from Papa’s critical gaze, the ghoul allows himself to relax a bit, though he can’t shake the feeling of humiliation at the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. If Papa catches the quiet whimper that the ghoul failed to choke back in time then he makes no indication of it. In reality, Papa has been reading the same few sentences over and over for the past few minutes, completely unable to retain any of the information contained in the article he was working through. He tightens his grip on the magazine when the ghoul makes another soft sound. The ghoul places an open mouthed kiss on the tip of his shoe before sitting back up again. “Finished,” he says, panting just a little bit and wiping at his lower lip. He’s definitely pricked himself on his teeth again and swallows back the taste of iron and leather.

This time he stays down and places his hands in his lap while Papa looks over the other shoe. “Good job on that one, too. I’m impressed.” He leans forward in his seat and actually pets the ghoul on the head, running his fingers through his hair and messing it up further. Not like anyone would notice anyway, so the ghoul allows himself to enjoy the show of praise without worrying too much. Besides, he had more pressing matters to worry about once Papa dismissed him, such as running off to his bedroom for the next several hours and maybe brushing his teeth. He lets out a disappointed sound when Papa stops the petting and finally withdraws his hand. 

“So tell me, ghoul,” Papa begins after a moment, voice harsh. He shoves him back so that the ghoul is knocked off balance and falls back onto his ass, barely catching himself on his elbows before he can fall completely prone. “What exactly were you planning to do about that?” He nods down at the ghoul, obviously referencing the bulge in his pants. _Fuck._ Another pang of humiliation surges through him, which does _not_ help his hardon at all, goddamn it. What was wrong with him today? “I’m sorry, Papa,” he looks back down and away, heat somehow still building. “This is so— it’s gross, and improper, I really should have better control of myself, especially in front of you, I know.” He knows hes babbling but he’s completely unable to stop himself. The threat of tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. _Fuck!_ “It won’t happen again, Papa, I swear.” 

Papa puts the magazine to the side again and hums thoughtfully for a moment, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. “Never again, huh? Well. That would be too bad, hmm?” He looks down at the poor stunned ghoul again before he huffs out what may have been a laugh and plants his shoe firmly between his legs, right against his cock. The ghoul hisses in a breath before looking pleadingly up to his superior. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, to explain himself further but Papa chooses that exact moment to start moving his foot in tight, deliberate circles. The friction and pressure are just enough to be frustrating and the ghoul groans as he cants his hips upward. Papa Emeritus continues to intermittently increase the speed and pressure at which he grinds his shoe up against the ghoul until he’s shivering and panting. After a particularly loud keening sound, Papa shushes the ghoul, almost gently. Then he starts whispering, “This garden is public, you know. We may be out of sight, but anybody walking nearby would be able to hear exactly what’s happening. They would come to investigate and see you on the ground in front of me, rutting against me like a dog.” The ghoul can’t help but moan at the idea and tightens his lips to try to prevent the sound from carrying. “Papa, please, I can’t take it,” the ghoul’s voice breaks slightly. One of the ghoul’s hands comes up and he presses the palm against his forehead, either to wipe away the sweat collecting there or in a half-hearted attempt to cover his face out of shame. 

In a rare instance of mercy, Papa removes the sole of his shoe from between the ghoul’s legs. “Up.” The ghoul fumbles his way back onto his hands and knees, and from there, onto his feet. He stands awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot before Papa pats both of his thighs twice and says, “Here, boy.” The ghoul might think he was mocking him if not for the straight face and complete monotone seriousness in his voice. “Uh, are you sure you want me to…?” The ghoul steps hesitantly forward and reaches out a hand before thinking better of it and pulling it back to his chest. Papa rolls his eyes and grabs the ghoul by the hips, pulling him forward until he’s sitting on the lower part of Papa’s thighs, legs on either side of Papa’s own. This time the ghoul has to reach out a hand to steady himself on Papa’s shoulder. There’s no way that Papa can’t feel him shaking, feel how hot he is even through the layers of clothing. 

“I can’t let you go back in there when you’re a mess like this,” Papa murmurs and places his hand firmly against the ghouls erection. “What would they say when they saw you?” He runs his hand up and down the clothed erection a few times as he speaks. He then undoes the ghoul’s belt and slips his hand into the front of his trousers. The ghoul tilts his head back and shuts his eyes tightly as Papa grinds the palm of his hand against the base of his cock, using his fingers to press against his balls. “Oh the poor ghoul, he knows not what he does.” Papa uses his free hand to push the ghoul’s shirt up, exposing his lower stomach and running his fingers over the splotchy grey skin there. Fingers tap against his skin a few times and the ghoul gets the hint, using his own free hand to hold the shirt up to save it from any possible staining. Papa lets his hand trail down from the ghoul’s stomach down to his thigh, rubbing circles into the ghoul’s inner thigh with his thumb. The whole process is painfully slow and teasing, almost as frustrating as it was being on the floor. “Poor ghoul, always getting punished for his stupid mistakes,” he says, pulling his hand away for a second to spit into his palm before wrapping his fingers tightly around his length. 

“Oh, shit,” the ghoul groans breathlessly, rolling his hips forward. Fucking _finally_. Papa twists his hand at the end of each stroke, occasionally bringing his thumb down to rub just below the head of the ghoul’s cock. The heat of climax is starting to build back up in the pit of his stomach and he bites his lips to try to keep any more noise than necessary from slipping out. Apparently, Papa wasn’t too fond of the silence despite his earlier warnings because he begins speaking lowly near the ghoul’s ear. “You know, there’s a rather large window facing the garden from the main hallway. I wonder if anyone’s in there right now. I wonder if—” The ghoul cuts him off with a strained “Oh my God” and digs his nails into Papa’s shoulder, earning a hiss. “You shouldn’t say that,” Papa whispers as he picks up the speed of his hand, the other tightening painfully on the ghoul’s thigh to hold him still. The ghoul still strains against Papa’s grip on his thigh anyway, panting heavily, voice raising in pitch. “Papa, oh my fucking God—” the ghoul lurches forward and buries his face in Papa Emeritus’ neck without thinking as he cums hard over Papa’s hand and his own stomach. Papa keeps stroking him hard throughout his orgasm until he’s twitching and whining, pulling away from the hand. 

They sit there for several minutes, just until the ghoul’s mind clears up enough that he remembers himself and sits bolt upright, moving to get off of Papa’s lap. Holy shit, he was sitting in Papa’s lap. Holy shit, Papa just jerked him off while he was sitting in his lap. He hadn’t even known that was something he wanted until just now. As the ghoul straightens out his clothing and runs his hands through his hair a few times, he catches Papa looking down disgustedly at his hand. He was about to suggest running to fetch a hand towel for real this time, since he still needed to wash the gross, cooled cum off of his own stomach, only for Papa to immediately tear a page out of the long-forgotten magazine and clean off as best as he could. _That works too, I suppose,_ the ghoul thinks to himself as he watches Papa toss the crumpled up page on the ground. 

Papa gestures for the ghoul to come towards him again and after the first step, Papa reaches out and grabs the ghoul by the face. “Very good,” he says, taking in every detail of the ghoul’s face. “Very, very good.” The ghoul stands awkwardly leaned over Papa for a few moments before he’s released. Papa sighs and drums his fingers against the table. “Do you think you’ll be able to go back to the kitchen without incident?” he asks. The ghoul is a bit confused and nods the affirmative. Papa flashes him a not-quite-smile and says, “Fantastic. Now go and get me another fucking coffee.”


End file.
